


After the Fall

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Gay Pride, Happy Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pride, Pride Parades, Sad Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 20:54:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19070497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: What he sees steals the very breath from his lungs. It makes his chest shudder and the back of his throat aches in a sorrow so profound that he’s worried his knees will buckle for a split second.He feels like an old man as he bends down slowly and gingerly picks up the item, ignoring the arrow for the little rainbow flag that’s laying innocuously on the sidewalk.





	After the Fall

He wakes up early that Saturday. Alec isn’t a morning person-- shadowhunters are notorious night owls-- but on that first Saturday of the month, he sets an alarm for six and doesn’t even groan when the chorus of I’m Not Okay starts blaring in the dark of his room.

He turns the alarm off and lays on his back, staring up at the ornate ceiling of his bedroom. No one else will take note of the day but it’s important to him and Alec will quietly celebrate in what little ways he can.

It’s the first of June.

He’d collapsed into bed just a couple of hours ago-- he’d been on patrol last night and is scheduled for another patrol tonight-- but he feels energized.

The energy is a little frenetic and a lot anxious but he decides not to pay too much attention to the way his stomach is jumping and the way his hands aren't quite steady.

He showers and dresses in his usual all black ensemble. Lacing up his combat boots, Alec grabs his stele and cell and leaves his room. It’s early yet and there’s still only a skeleton crew in ops. He bypasses them with minimum effort and then he’s swinging open the front doors of the Institute and breathing in heady June air. It’s already a little warm and the humidity will be miserable in a few hours but it doesn’t matter.

There aren’t too many people out yet and as Alec starts walking a path he knows as well as any other, he looks around and his chest aches, just a little, every time he passes a business with a Pride display.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger too long, though, just stuffing his hands into his jean pockets and moving forward.

But he notices every single one and it fills him with something he can't quite definite, all of them a jumbled mess.

Resentment. Shame. Yearning.

It’s a nauseating mix but Alec’s long grown used to the way bile scalds his throat whenever he thinks about-- about that.

Rounding the corner, he reaches for the first door he reaches and pushes it open. A cheery little bell sounds in the relative quiet-- on the weekends, this coffee shop doesn’t grow busy until midmorning-- and there are only a couple of people in line.

He studies the menu while he waits and browses the pastry cabinet. His eyes latch onto a sugar cookie display and his mouth goes dry.

It’s a colorful little thing in the shades of the rainbow. He takes a surreptitious look around the shop and his heart hammers a little painfully just at the sheer idea of buying it.

He doesn’t know why he looks around. It’s not like he thinks someone from the Institute is lurking in the corner, the Consul herself waiting until Alec buys something gay, only to jump out and draw a spectacle to it.

Still. There’s a lump in his throat and his hands are a little clammy.

As he makes his way up to the cash register, he’s greeted by Maris. He’s a regular here-- has been for a couple of years now-- and she smiles as she greets him.

“Morning, Alec. The regular?”

Swallowing hard, Alec replies, “Yeah, but can I also add a cookie?”

“Of course! Which one did you have your eye on?”

“The-- the rainbow one?” His voice is hushed and he looks around one last time as he says it. When his eyes meet Maris’s again, he sees the same warmth that’s always there and a new level of understanding.

“You got it,” she answers in a soft tone. When Alec goes to pay, she shakes her head gently.

“This one’s on the house.” She winks. “It’s the first of June, after all, and I’m in a good mood.”

Opening his mouth to protest, Alec abruptly closes it before he smiles. His shoulders relax as he nods in her direction. “Thanks, Maris.”

She nods back in acknowledgement before gesturing towards the end of the counter. “Don’t mention it, hun. Everything will be ready at the end.”

He takes a few steps over and is greeted by her wife who throws a grin over to him as she mans the espresso machine.

Smiling back, Alec leans against the pick-up station and idly watches the room. He’d stopped in here one afternoon when he was desperate for a fresh breath of air, away from the dozens of prying eyes at the Institute, and jonesing for enough caffeine to fell an elephant.

He’d wandered in here and at first, he’d just thought the two of them were friends. He’d liked the feel of the shop, though, the quiet and easy atmosphere, so he’d kept coming back. Eventually noticing the rings, Alec had almost tripped over his feet and went crashing to the floor one morning when he’d opened the door and saw Maris and her wife making out in front of a table they were ostensibly cleaning.

The place was empty and as the bell overhead had dinged cheerily in the shop, Alec had expected the two of them to spring apart, mortified.

Instead, they’d lingered for another kiss before breaking apart with an easy laugh. They hadn’t apologized, hadn’t seemed the least bit bothered.

It had struck something in Alec’s chest to see the blatant, unapologetic affection.

His thoughts break off as he’s handed his white chocolate mocha and cookie and he heads over to a table in front of the window as he takes a sip of his drink.

Carefully-- much more careful than he knows is appropriate. For God's sake, he’s opening a pastry bag not defusing a bomb-- Alec reaches inside and takes the cookie out.

He stares at it for a few moment and it holds his interest far more than a colorful sugar cookie should.

Studying the bright bands of color, Alec allows himself these few moments of quiet pride.

It’s not much. It’s barely anything, really. But it’s more than he allows himself most days and he’ll take what he can get.

He bits into the cookie gently and he swears that it’s the best cookie he’s ever had.

It could be dirt and still taste wonderful.

He takes his time, savoring every bite, mourning a little when he finishes off each color. By the time he’s finished it, his sweet tooth is satiated even if he’s a little sadder than usual, a little more empty.

He throws the bag in the trash on his way out and steps back into the June sunshine. The rest of the morning is spent wandering around. His head is in a fog and he doesn’t pay much attention to where he’s going. Eventually, though, he starts seeing color spill onto the streets and when he looks at his watch, Alec sees the parade is due to start soon.

Taking in his whereabouts, he dips into an alley and activates his speed and glamour runes before taking off. 

The New York City Pride March is something to behold and Alec had found a spot five years ago that had the best vantage point. He jumps onto a fire escape and goes up to the roof of an apartment complex along the route. It’s close enough to the end that he can see the festivities planned for the rest of the day and the crowd amassed. 

It’s a riot of color and his throat aches. 

He’d have to be living under a rock not to know about Pride. In June, the streets of New York are wonderfully, brazenly gay. He sees more couples not giving a fuck, he sees rainbows everywhere he turns, he sees what he hopes for himself every damned day.

As the opening group turns the corner and starts down his street, Alec looks down and sees what he could have in another life. He wonders at how amazing it must feel to be someone in the crowd below, to be surrounded with acceptance and joy and revelry.

It’s something that’s not meant for him-- for any shadowhunter-- but Alec stands on the sidelines and his gaze soaks in every detail like a sponge.

He’s so hungry for what the scene below promises. It feels like he’s starving, like every day that goes by and he denies who he is and what he wants, that a piece of him turns to dust and blows away on acrid air.

Distantly, he wonders how much is left before he’s nothing but a shell, empty and wasted.

The truth is, most days he figures he’s already there.

Alec spends most of the afternoon sitting on the ledge of the apartment building and watching the people. He sees couples kiss and he sees angry signs and he wishes he were someone else, someone free to to do the same.

He spots a couple of people crying and doesn’t even notice the tear tracks on his own cheeks.

The sun starts setting all too fast and with a heavy sigh that seems to come somewhere deep inside, Alec stands. Taking a last moment to sear this year’s pride on his goddamn memory-- for memories and dreams are all that he has to get him through lonely nights and trying days-- he turns his back on Pride and drops back down onto the street.

Alec makes his way back to the Institute and signs in for duty. The night is humid and it’s still hovering close to eighty no matter that it’s two in the morning.

His head isn’t really in the game, though, and he lets a couple of demons take easy swipes at him. Hissing out a filthy curse when one gets his shoulder, Alec decapitates the thing in the next instant.

It’s a grueling patrol and Alec’s so tired, his eyes are gritty and stinging.

His heart feels so heavy that it’s a wonder he can still move, can still duck and swerve and attack.

When the last battle before the end of his patrol is over, Alec’s breathing echoes harshly in the evening. His partner for this shift is Jace and, surprisingly, his parabatai had been quiet tonight.

Deciding not to ask any questions-- he doesn’t want to encourage talking, thinks keeping up a conversation right now seems more effort than he can manage-- Alec just nods his acknowledgement as Jace says that he’s got a date with a Seelie at a breakfast cafe and that he doesn't want to be late.

Waving him on, it’s just Alec in the empty alley. Swiping the sweat on his brow, Alec wanders over to collect his arrows.

He walks to the opening of the alley and squints as the sunrise peaks over the horizon. Orange and yellow and the tiniest hint of purple steal his vision for a minute and when he cautiously opens his eyes again and blinks rapidly, he looks down for the arrow he’d seen glinting on the cement.

What he sees steals the very breath from his lungs. It makes his chest shudder and the back of his throat aches in a sorrow so profound that he’s worried his knees will buckle for a split second.

He feels like an old man as he bends down slowly and gingerly picks up the item, ignoring the arrow for the little rainbow flag that’s laying innocuously on the sidewalk.

It’s a little dirty and folded. It looks a little worse for wear. Laughing a little to himself, Alec decides it looks like shit.

It looks forgotten and a little sad.

He marvels at how much he has in common with the cheap little thing.

Alec stands on a New York sidewalk at dawn and grins down at a rainbow flag. His heart squeezes his chest and his breaths come in choking gasps that sound a lot like sobs as sunlight spills over him in a golden wave.

He feels like the only person in the world. For the millionth time, he wishes that was the case.

Bitterness chokes him and self loathing is a thousand tiny daggers that shred his skin until it’s a wonder that he doesn’t bleed out, right there on the street for all to see. The flag in his hands is everything he wants and everything that terrifies him.

Swallowing hard, Alec carefully, painstaking rolls up the flag before shoving it to the bottom of his quiver.

He turns his back on the sunrise and returns to the Institute, working the whole way to measure his breathing, to regain his equilibrium.

The past twenty four hours have been hard, so damned hard.

There were pockets of happiness, though, even if misery and bitterness wrapped around the joy. 

The Institute’s walls are cold and as Alec walks into the patrol center, he feels like suffocating.

He’s achingly aware of his secret and its manifestation underneath all his arrows.

Closing the door behind him, Alec leans against it and takes in his bedroom. Perfectly nondescript, it could be almost any other shadowhunters if not for the pile of books on his desk of the pictures of his family scattered around. Carefully reaching into his quiver, Alec takes out the crumpled up flag and smooths a hand over it before clenching it in his fist.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Alec sighs a little.

It’s such a small token but it means the world.

Alec’s not ashamed of who he is and he wishes to Raziel that he could be as unapologetic about it as others, as mundanes.

That life was never meant for him, though.

Grieving for all the lives he’ll never live and all the foolish dreams he just can’t let go of, Alec delicately places the flag in his bottom drawer, underneath all the clothes he hasn’t worn since he was Max’s age.

It’s a cold comfort but he needs everything he can get.

Soul bleeding, Alec straightens and heads to the bathroom ready to shower and collapse into bed.

 

A few years later, Alec doesn’t even notice when someone bumps into him.

He can’t feel anything except awe and happiness and raucous pride.

Magnus is a steady presence beside him and as he pulls his husband closer, Alec’s breath comes in shuddering exhales. For the dozenth year in a row, he doesn’t feel the tear tracks on his cheek.

These tears are cathartic, though. They’re cleansing. They taste of renewal and hope and so much love that he feels like bursting.

Magnus turns toward him and Alec catalogs the little bi flag on his cheek and his purple, pink, and blue highlights.

He swears he can feel the little rainbow on his own cheek-- the only sign he was comfortable with this year, his first pride amidst the crowds, not a silent mourner above.

Wiping away the tears, Magnus leans close and smiles at Alec. “Happy Pride, my darling.”

Alec takes in the words, letting them wrap around his heart and heal him from a million micro fractures that he never thought could be acknowledged, let alone purged.

Alec grins, then laughs and it echoes around them, bright and happy.

“Happy Pride, babe,” he replies. He's still grinning as leans in, kissing Magnus in the middle of the crowd. He tastes Magnus's smile against his lips and when they break apart a second later, Alec rests his forehead against his husband's and sinks into the moment.

For the first time, he feels like he belongs. He looks around him and feels welcomed by his community that he ignored for so long-- that he had to pretend ignorance of in a desperate attempt at self-preservation.

He feels light and happy and like all those missing pieces have finally been returned to him. He feels whole.

He feels free.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr or twitter @carmenlire!


End file.
